


Osmosis

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: non_mcsmooch, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh my god," Rodney said, "oh my god, oh <i>god</i>, get them off me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Osmosis

**Author's Note:**

> For Astridv, who wanted Jennifer/Rodney and bugs. Thanks to Cate for reading through.

"Oh my god," Rodney said, "oh my god, oh _god_, get them off me."

Jennifer grabbed his hand and pulled him upright. Most of the bugs fell off him as he stood, but a few clung to the pockets of his BDUs. Jennifer brushed them off briskly, and plucked off the enterprising one or two that tried to scurry beneath the collar of his jacket. She tossed them to the ground and squished them underneath the heel of her boot. "They're just cockroaches, Rodney. Well, alien cockroaches, but still—no big deal."

"Ha," Rodney said, "you say that now. But just wait until one of them decides to go for my jugular—then you'll see! I'm still not over the last time it happened."

Jennifer flicked through the mental file she kept of the expedition's major medical incidents. "I thought that happened to the Colonel. If anyone should have a bug phobia, it should—"

"Hey!" Rodney said. "Firstly, I think _phobia_ is a slight exaggeration, thank you very much. Secondly, I think that it is perfectly possible to acquire a healthy respect for insects through osmosis—"

Jennifer blinked at him. "Bug osmosis," she said, scepticism colouring her voice.

"It could be a thing," Rodney mumbled.

"Uh huh," Jennifer said, "And the reason why I've never seen a definition of it in any science text I've ever studied?"

"Oh look," Rodney said, with forced good humour in his voice, "What is that I see? Why, I think it's the gate, just over that next hill."

Jennifer arched an eyebrow at him. "It's at least another three hours' walk away."

Rodney sighed, his shoulders slumping. "God, is it? I'm going to have such blisters."

"We've been through worse than this before," Jennifer pointed out. "Maybe not _together_—though I suppose the whole brain parasite thing probably counts as a shared experience."

Rodney blanched.

"But we got through all of that!" Jennifer said hurriedly—when you were stranded on an uninhabited alien moon with no supplies to speak of and no way of contacting Atlantis, it was probably best not to remind your boyfriend of that time he almost died. Sometimes she wished she could make her mouth behave the way it was supposed to—Teyla could instruct her, she was pretty sure. "And we're going to get through this. It's just you and me and a nice hike on this… deserted moon. That's not so bad, right?"

"Deserted except for the _alien cockroaches_," Rodney said, turning to continue their descent down the rocky hill.

"They were itty bitty bugs!" Jennifer said. "And I smushed them."

"Smushed," Rodney said and blinked at her—and really, it's not like it's _that_ surprising. Jennifer might have drawn the line at eating raw _gr'tak_ with Teyla, but she grew up in rural Wisconsin. She's an old hand at dealing with bugs. "Is _that_ a medical term?"

"Yes," Jennifer said firmly, trying not to laugh. "Smushed bug is an excellent remedy for anticipatory anxiety."

"Well then," Rodney said, lifting his chin in that way he had when he was trying to be nonchalant. "I have smushed bugs and, uh, you. I'm sure we'll make it just fine."

Jennifer choked on her laughter. "Rodney, please don't try to be smooth—don't try to be smooth about _bugs_."

"Fine, fine," he said with the sigh of the long-suffering. "Lack of romanticism duly noted." But he took her hand after they'd clambered their way down to the valley floor; and when they reached the gate, he kissed her on the temple, the cheek, the mouth, before dialling home and saying, "After you."


End file.
